


The Lord's Boy

by parseltonquinq



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Dark Harry, M/M, Prodigy Harry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-06
Updated: 2016-07-06
Packaged: 2018-07-21 22:24:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7407496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/parseltonquinq/pseuds/parseltonquinq
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry is the prodigy of the darkest Wizard known to mankind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Lord's Boy

The Lord’s boy was three when Lucius first saw him. He had tousled obsidian hair and eyes that seemed to capture everything. They were calculating and cold and Lucius remembered being disturbed by the lack of emotion in the killing curse orbs. 

The Lord’s boy was five when his guardian bought him his first wand – it was the brother to his own. Antonin remembered watching, in stunned fascination, as the child raised the wand and murmured exactly what his guardian told him to. The tome his wand was pointing at rose in the air and followed the movements of the little boy. 

The Lord’s boy was seven when he cast his first Dark curse. Bellatrix was standing behind his guardian, her eyes wide and skin crawling, as bright red light burst from the child’s wand and seemed to bind the limbs of the mudblood prisoner, who let out a piercing scream. The boy’s eyebrows rose in either surprise or curiosity, she couldn’t tell which, and he held the curse until his guardian placed a proud hand on his shoulder. 

The Lord’s boy was nine when he was sent on his first raid. Antonin had been determined to protect the child, but had found himself being saved by a shielding charm put up by that very boy. He’d nodded in respect, shock, and gratitude, before the boy dropped the charm and shot three spells in quick succession at the Auror. 

The Lord’s boy was ten when Rabastan saw him fight. The boy’s guardian had gathered his inner circle to witness the sheer power in his stripling. Lower-ranking Death Eaters were ordered to kill the child. Rabastan regarded the scene before him in horror, watching as the boy utilized both muggle and magical methods to slaughter the ten opponents. He moved like a shadow, swiftly, methodically, powerfully, ending the show in less than five minutes. His emerald eyes immediately snapped to his guardian, who nodded in rare approval. 

The Lord’s boy was twelve when Severus first taught him Legilimency. He was ghosting through the boy’s thoughts. He found no hint of emotion, no trace of remorse. He began searching avidly for any indication that this boy was human, when a violent shove sent him back in his own head. His eyes met stony absinthe ones and Severus found himself wondering what the boy’s guardian had created. 

The Lord’s boy was fourteen when Amycus watched him torture a traitor. He was standing before his guardian’s throne, twirling his wand between his fingers expertly. All eyes were on the adolescent and when he began flinging Dark curse after Dark curse at the man before him, Amycus could only stare at the sheer power radiating from the teenager. While some eyes were on the writhing, shrieking victim, most were on the lethal weapon their Lord had raised. 

The Lord’s boy was sixteen when Draco finally met him. 

* * *

“Remember to bow. The Dark Lord will have his eye on you - you’re of age soon,” his father reminded him. 

“Yes, father.” Draco was attending his first meeting. He’d be in the presence of the Dark Lord for the first time and his father was treating it as the most important day of Draco’s life. Draco only found himself feeling terrified at the prospect of being in the same room as the most powerful Dark Wizard in the world. 

“Your Aunt Bellatrix will be there, as will your father and I. You’ll be standing right beside us,” his mother reassured him. 

The three of them rose their cowls, then entered the ballroom of the large manor. Rows of Death Eaters, the lower-ranking ones in the back, were lined up in the large room. The throne at the front of the hall was empty. Draco followed his father to the front of the room, though held back to stand beside to his mother in the front row. His father strode forward to claim his place in a wide semicircle surrounding the Dark Lord’s throne. It was the circle of the seven Elite. His father was between Draco’s Aunt Bella and Uncle Sev.

The room was so quiet the silence was deafening. Finally, after what felt like centuries, the doors opened. Draco fought the urge to turn and see the Lord his father revered. His brows furrowed in confusion as he heard two sets of footsteps. The Elite broke position to allow their Lord to pass. Draco saw two tall figures in black robes stride past the Elite. One of them moved with purpose, almost cruel arrogance, while the other was more graceful and agile. If anyone was surprised at the presence of the second person, it wasn’t evident. 

The Lord took his seat at the throne, then the second person moved to stand beside him. He turned and Draco caught sight of almond-shaped eyes the color of the killing curse. The boy had a straight nose, pouty lips, and sharp cheekbones that cast a shadow across his strong, hard jaw. 

Draco couldn’t seem to take his eyes off of the boy. Half of him was wondering what he was doing standing beside the Dark Lord and the other half of him was wondering how one could be so beautiful and ethereal. As if feeling his gaze, calculating eyes snapped to his. Draco immediately lowered his stare, but he could still sense the boy’s scrutiny. 

“My followers,” the Dark Lord’s voice was hoarse, yet held such power that Draco almost swayed beneath it. “I gather you here to inform me of our progress.” Red eyes zeroed in on Draco’s father. “Lucius. What of the Minister?” 

“I have his full trust, My Lord,” his father bowed his head in respect. 

The boy standing beside the throne turned to face the Dark Lord. Though Draco was feet away, he could hear the boy’s low murmur. Clipped, almost angry, sibilant sounds fell from his lips. Draco felt his blood turn to ice as he recognized the parseltongue – the language of Dark wizards. The Dark Lord merely tilted his head toward the boy and hissed back, almost in amusement. 

“Harry seems to think it would be simpler to storm the Ministry and name me Minister,” the Dark Lord drawled. The boy – Harry – hissed something in irritation before narrowing his eyes and crossing his arms over his chest. “English, boy.” In response, Harry let more parseltongue fall from his lips. Draco watched, stunned, as the Dark Lord merely chuckled. “Yes, well, unfortunately not all my Death Eaters are as competent as you.” 

When the meeting came to a close, Draco made eye contact with Harry once more. The contemplation in his eyes caused Draco to look away once more and follow his mother out the door. 

* * *

Draco followed his Uncle Sev to his Potions lab at Riddle Manor. He’d agreed to help his godfather brew for that day, having nothing better to do with his summer vacation. 

As soon as Draco stepped through the door, his eyes locked onto a lithe figure leaning over one of Sev’s counters. His pulse quickened as he recognized Harry. Without the robe, Draco could see Harry’s silky black hair and toned, muscular physique. 

“Sev,“ Harry drawled without looking up, “I’m in need of more Dreamless Sleep.” 

“You’ll develop a dependence,” the Potions Master replied without pause. 

“Draco’s been taking it every night since the meeting and he’s fine.” Harry straightened his back and tilted his head to regard Draco with a predatory mien. Draco had never felt so naked in all his life. “Aren’t you, Draco?” 

“How did you know that?” Draco questioned, curious and bewildered. 

Harry didn’t respond. He stood and sauntered toward Draco, moving fluidly. Nimble hands flicked open the buttons of Draco’s robe and swiftly snatched a vial of Dreamless Sleep. Harry held it up to the light, examining it with clever eyes, before tucking it into the pockets of his trousers. He buttoned Draco back up, then gave him a soft pat on the chest. 

“My gratitude, Malfoy.” He didn’t spare Sev a second look, merely exiting the lab. 

* * *

Draco was sitting at a bench in the gardens of Malfoy Manor when he met Harry for a third time. He’d had his eyes closed, face raised toward the light like a flower, when his light source was suddenly obstructed. He’d opened an eye to find Harry standing before him. 

“What are you doing here?” Draco had wondered, not bothering to conceal his surprise. 

“The raid just ended. Tom’s speaking with your father, so I decided to find you.” 

Despite Draco not having a clue who Tom was, he nodded in understanding. He didn’t fully grasp the fact that Harry had been at the raid. Harry took a seat beside Draco on the bench and gazed at the flower beds before them. 

“You’ll need to get used to it if you expect to join your father,” he said bluntly. 

Draco immediately turned to look at him. Harry stared back. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

“Don’t insult both your and my intelligence by playing stupid,” Harry stated. “Stop taking the Dreamless Sleep and deal with the reality of what you’ll have to do one day.”

Draco sneered. “I’m not a coward,” he snarled. 

“That word’s not left my lips. I’ve called you no such thing,” Harry’s expression didn’t change. “You’re a Slytherin, yes? You’re adaptable. You’ll do well if you learn to control your emotions. Compartmentalize them.”

“Why are you telling me this?” 

“You’re my… friend… now.” He seemed to consider the word. “If you don’t learn to adapt, you’ll die in the ranks.” 

“You can’t possibly know that.” 

“I see the new recruits every day, Draco. I’ve seen them slaughtered for their weakness. I’ll not let that happen to you.” Harry stood to walk back toward the manor, then turned to Draco once more. “I feel obligated to inform you that I’ve destroyed the Dreamless Sleep you had stored in your room. From now on, you’ll deal with your nightmares without the denial the potion brings.”

* * *

The fourth time Draco saw Harry, he was struggling to keep his eyes open. He’d gotten no sleep since Harry had obliterated his supply of Dreamless Sleep and for some reason, he was physically unable to buy, ask for, or brew a batch. He assumed it had something to do with Harry. 

“Bring forth the traitor,” the Dark Lord ordered. 

Draco watched as a man was dragged through the hall. The Elite moved to stand in a line before the Dark Lord, allowing all the Death Eaters to see the traitor before them. When Draco looked to see Harry’s reaction, he was surprised to see a look of boredom and indifference upon his friend’s face. 

The Dark Lord turned to Harry and hissed something. Harry smirked, then nodded in obedience. Draco watched, in curiosity, as Harry stepped forward and stood before the traitor. His wand was twirling between his nimble fingers so quickly it was a blur and his eyes were studying the bedraggled man. 

“You know me, yes?” Harry murmured lowly, so low Draco had to strain to hear it. 

“Please, no,” the man whimpered. 

“You must have known we’d be meeting when you decided to betray your Lord.” Harry tsked and grabbed the man’s chin, forcing eye contact. 

The man’s eyes widened and almost seemed to bulge as Harry stared into him. Draco recognized Legilimency when he saw it and had never seen it performed so forcefully. The man was whimpering and shaking, all caused by Harry’s search through his mind. Eventually, Harry let go of him and let him fall to the floor. He looked up at the Dark Lord and said something in parseltongue. Whatever he said seemed to spark something in the Dark Lord’s eyes. 

“Kill him,” the Dark Lord ordered. “Make it good.” 

Harry nodded. With a twitch of his wand, the man was on his knees, posture stiff, back straight. His eyes were wild and he was shaking. Harry flicked his wand at the man and murmured something in parseltongue. The man’s eyes widened as his hands reached up and into his mouth. The man was sobbing, screaming for mercy, but Harry showed none. Draco watched, in unveiled horror, as the man reached into his mouth and, with no shortage of screams and shrieks, pulled his hand out with a red, bloodied part in it. Blood was gushing from the man’s mouth and he was shuddering and howling in pain. Harry regarded the tongue in the man’s hands with a slightly raised eyebrow. 

“Consider this a favor,” he drawled. “You’ll not have to worry about your traitorous tongue in whatever afterlife awaits you.” 

Draco felt like throwing up. His skin was crawling and his heart was in his ears. He was barely aware of his shaking limbs. 

Harry walked over to Bellatrix, who was watching him like a proud mother, and she handed him a gnarled wand. He placed it in the empty hand of the man. “Your wand,” he explained. “It will do you the honor of taking you from your misery.” He hissed something else, then the man raised his wand and pointed it at his own heart. He murmured the two last words he’d ever hear, then dropped to the floor, lifeless. 

* * *

Draco was laying in his bed, wide awake. He’d awoken from the same nightmare that had kept him from restful sleep for the past month. Frowning, he shoved his blankets away and decided he’d go down to breakfast early. 

He was buttering his toast when his owl delivered his copy of the _Prophet._ He nearly choked when he recognized the boy gracing the cover. Harry was dressed in muggle clothes, wearing muggle shades, and was exiting the side door of a hotel. His hands were tucked into his pockets and he was sauntering back into the crowd in the photo. 

‘ _Suspect Involved in Murder of Dolores Umbridge Spotted in Muggle London,’_ was printed in bold letters across the top of the page. The article revealed to Draco that the Aurors had no clues as to who Harry was or just how important he was. That calmed Draco’s nerves. 

He pulled out a piece of parchment and scrawled a note on it, then sent it away with his owl. Now he just needed to wait. 

* * *

Rufus Scrimgeour Apparated to the roof of the Ministry, accompanied by three other Aurors. He immediately raised his wand and aimed it at the dark figure standing over Cornelius Fudge. The Minister seemed to be locked under the Cruciatus, if his writhing was an indication. A silencing charm must have been raised, as the Minister’s mouth was open in an agonized scream. 

“How nice of you to join us, Rufus,” came an amused drawl. The tone of the boy’s voice started Rufus, as he couldn’t have been older than an adolescent. “I was just chatting with Cornelius here, though I daresay it’s time for me to take my leave.” 

“Don’t move a muscle, boy,” Rufus ordered, keeping his wand aimed at the boy. 

Slowly, the boy released Fudge from the Cruciatus and turned to face Rufus. He had vibrant green eyes that seemed to glow, a structured face, and an impish smirk. The boy slowly lowered his cowl, revealing windblown black hair. 

“I told you not to move,” Rufus said harshly. “Next time you do, I’ll have no choice but to curse you.” 

The boy grinned. “Boo.” 

Before he knew what was happening, the boy had his wand in his hand and a powerful shielding charm surrounding him. He ran at the nearest Auror and dropped his shield, leaping in the air and kicking the Auror square in the chest, cracking a few ribs. As a second Auror ran at him, he swept his leg across the floor, tripping the man. The adolescent leapt up and took the Auror’s face in his hands, then swiftly snapped the man’s neck. Without pause, the boy then raised his shields once more – this had all happened in the span of several seconds. 

The boy turned to Rufus next, eyes blazing with adrenaline. He flung spell after spell in quick succession at the Head Auror, unrelenting in his attack. Eventually, Rufus couldn’t keep up with his blocking charms and was knocked unconscious. The boy turned to the last Auror on the roof and a slow smile spread across his face. 

“Run,” he murmured. 

Not needing to be told twice, the Auror Apparated back downstairs to the Auror Department, intending to gather backup. 

The boy strode back toward Cornelius Fudge, who had watched all of this in a state of terror. He raised his wand and calmly recited the Killing Curse, watching as the Minister dropped dead. He then pulled a piece of parchment from his pocket and scanned it before Apparating to Hogsmeade. 

* * *

Harry was sitting in the corner of The Hogs Head, smoking a muggle cigarette, when Draco arrived. He looked utterly bored and was performing mindless charms on the chips in front of him when, as if sensing Draco’s presence, his eyes flicked up to meet silver. Draco nodded in greeting and Harry inclined his head slightly, a slow smirk gracing his lips as his eyes scanned Draco. 

“Green suits you,” Harry stated. 

Not quite knowing what to say, Draco blushed and murmured a thank you. He frowned at the cigarette. 

“Why?” He asked bluntly. 

“Why not?” 

“They kill you,” Draco informed him. 

“They kill muggles,” Harry clarified. “I daresay my magic is strong enough to protect me. Besides, the taste is exquisite.” 

Draco grimaced, not sure if he agreed with Harry’s questionable judgment, but said nothing more on the matter. “I’ve a room rented upstairs.” 

Harry raised an eyebrow, but followed Draco up to the inn anyway. Draco closed and locked the door behind him, then set silencing and privacy spells so they wouldn’t be overheard. When he turned to face Harry, the other boy was smirking and had his eyebrows raised expectantly. 

“Is this the portion of our meeting in which we ravage each other?” Harry asked teasingly. 

Draco nearly choked on air and he discreetly adjusted his robes as he tucked his wand in his pocket. “No, this is the portion of our meeting in which I tell you to lay low because the Aurors will catch you sooner or later.” 

“As touched as I am by your concern, I can take care of myself.” Harry flicked a piece of lint off of the bed he was lounging on. “Tom wouldn’t send me on errands if he didn’t deem me worthy.” 

“You’re being reckless,” Draco insisted. “People think you killed Umbridge-”

“That’s probably because I _did_ kill Umbridge,” Harry said slowly, as if Draco were a child. “You’re denying the fact that I’m a _killer_. That’s what I do. It’s what I’m good at. It’s what I was raised to do.” 

“You killed Umbridge?” Draco breathed. 

Harry rolled his eyes. “You saw me torture and kill a man before you, yet you have trouble accepting the fact that I killed a corrupt Ministry worker.” Harry sat up at locked his viridescent gaze with Draco’s. “What is it you think that I do when I’m sent on errands? Buy groceries for the House Elves?” 

“So you’re… what? A master assassin? Is that why the Dark Lord likes you?” 

“He likes me because he raised me.”

Draco’s mouth went dry at the thought of being raised by the Dark Lord. It was no surprise that Harry turned out the way he had. Not quite knowing what to say, Draco flopped down next to Harry on the edge of the bed. The other boy sighed and pointed his finger at a piece of lint, levitating it through the air. Draco opened his mouth to say something, but Harry beat him to it. 

“Don’t speak. I need to practice my wandless magic and it requires concentration.” 

“You’re insufferable,” Draco muttered. 

“Then leave.”

“ _You_ leave. I’m the one who rented the room.” 

Harry shrugged and sat up. “Alright.” He stood and made his way to the door.

Without quite knowing why, Draco stood and in one movement, grabbed Harry’s arm and pulled him back to face him. As if he’d known that Draco was going to do that all along, Harry swiftly ducked his head and cupped Draco’s jaw, pressing a firm kiss to Draco’s lips, impossibly getting the angle just right so their noses didn’t bump. Draco’s hands clutched the fabric of Harry’s robes because it felt less like a kiss and more like he was being devoured.

Harry was walking Draco backwards toward the bed, taking care not to part their lips, and if it didn’t just irk Draco that even though he was the one who made the move, Harry was so obviously in control. Before he knew it, the back of his knees hit the mattress and he was losing his balance. Strong arms circled around his waist and then he was being placed in the middle of the bed. Harry’s tongue met his as he gracefully lowered himself between Draco’s legs.

The other boy was resting his weight on his elbows, careful not to crush Draco as they tasted each other and their hands wandered shamelessly. Harry expertly unbuttoned Draco’s school robes and let his calloused fingers trace the lines of his ribs and abdomen. Draco arched into the touch, pushing their bodies closer together, as Harry pushed Draco’s robes off the bed.

Harry gave an experimental roll of his hips, curious to see Draco’s reaction. When the other boy made a strangled sort of noise, Harry repeated the motion and developed a rhythm. Despite his heavy breathing and his muddled mind, Draco was present enough to tug Harry’s robes away and run his fingers down taut, defined muscle.

Harry held his hand out and a bottle of lube flew into it from the bedside table.

“I thought wandless magic required concentration,” Draco panted. 

“If there’s a will…” 

Draco barely noticed the banishment of both his and Harry’s pants – the only giveaway was that now the friction between their groins was enhanced. He heard Harry’s low chuckle when he raised his hips in an effort to convince Harry to continue. 

Instead, slicked up fingers bypassed his cock and circled around his anus – a question. In response, he arched forward and pressed his lips against Harry’s and used his other arm to pull the boy closer. He held his breath as he felt one of Harry’s fingers slowly being pushed into him. Harry picked up on his discomfort and dragged his teeth across Draco’s bottom lip, pulling his focus back to the kiss. 

As Harry’s tongue swept through Draco’s mouth, his finger was slowly pumping in and out of Draco. Now that he’d gotten used to the feeling, he could appreciate the filling sensation. He hummed softly, prompting Harry to slide another one in. This time, it only burned slightly before he grew accustomed to the stretch. He moaned and tightened his grip on Harry’s hair as the other boy scissored his fingers and moved them in and out of Draco. 

Draco sucked on Harry’s bottom lip and rocked his hips forward on instinct, looking for any sort of friction against his painfully hard erection. Harry groaned as their cocks rubbed together and his fingers twisted, hitting something that caused Draco to gasp and a slight tremor to shudder through his body. 

“Bloody hell, do that again.”

“What, this?” Harry curled his fingers and massaged that spot, causing Draco to groan. 

“Merlin, don’t stop,” he cried out garbled words between moans as Harry pumped his fingers in and out of Draco, hitting that spot every time. Not being able to take it anymore, Draco grabbed Harry’s arm, halting the other boy’s movements. Harry, for the first time Draco could remember, looked confused. “If you don’t fuck me right now this will end very soon,” Draco panted. 

Harry murmured something awfully obscene beneath his breath, then slicked his cock up with lube before pulling Draco closer to him. He slowly pushed into him, letting out a low sound in his throat, and Draco held his breath, only inhaling when he was fully seated. 

“Fuck, Draco,” Harry muttered. His hands gripped Draco’s hips and he only began to move when Draco gave a nod. 

He pulled out ever so slightly, then pushed back in, fucking Draco in slow, deep thrusts. After about a minute of this, Draco’s breaths became heavier as the burning became pleasure. He rocked against Harry, prompting him to pick up the pace. 

Harry readjusted the angle a bit, then jerked his hips forward more roughly than before. Draco cried out as he felt that same spot being stimulated and he formed fists in the sheets as Harry hit it with every thrust. He was vaguely aware now that he was begging Harry to fuck him harder, faster, rougher. 

The only sounds in the room were Draco’s garbled pleas, the sound of skin slapping skin, and the creak of the bedsprings. He was gripping the headboard for dear life now and as per his request Harry was fucking him so thoroughly that there was barely a pace. 

Draco felt his approaching orgasm and wrapped his hand around his erection, but it was promptly pushed away by Harry. The other boy wrapped his hand around Draco’s cock and, using the moisture already leaking from it, stroked it in time with his thrusts. Draco cried out and dug his fingernails into Harry’s back just because he needed to do _something_  or the pleasure would surely unhinge him. 

He came harder than he ever had before and finally understood why people used the term “saw stars.” Because he did. His vision went and he could hear himself gasping and sobbing with the force of his orgasm. He was vaguely aware that Harry was groaning and speeding up his thrusts before stiffening and letting out a low groan, filling Draco with warmth. 

The spasms of Draco’s own orgasm seemed to milk Harry’s from him and after an indecipherable amount of time, Harry pulled out and collapsed next to Draco, panting. A lazy lethargy overcame Draco and he let out a sated sigh between his rapid breathing. 

“And to think you said there’d be no ravaging,” Harry muttered between heavy breaths. 

“Shuttup,” Draco mumbled, closing his eyes and nuzzling his face into Harry’s neck. 

A warm arm wrapped around Draco and pulled him closer as Draco tangled their legs together and rested his hand on Harry’s chest. He could feel the other boy’s steadily decreasing heart rate as he regained his breath. His eyelids got heavy as Harry carded his fingers through Draco’s hair. 

“Good idea putting up the silencing charms,” Harry chuckled. “I wouldn’t have expected you to be so… vocal.” 

“It wasn’t that bad,” Draco defended. 

“It was.” Draco could practically hear the smirk. “But it was hot.” 

Draco was comforted by this. “Merlin, I’ve just had sex with a murderer,” he muttered. He didn’t feel the need to mention that it had also been his _first time_ having sex. He suspected Harry already knew.

“And it was the most mindblowing orgasm you’ve ever had,” Harry said smugly. 

“Rather arrogant of you, isn’t it?” 

“I think I’ve earned the right to be arrogant. I _did_ just make you scream.” 

Draco furrowed his brow in contemplation. “You’ll have to find a way into Hogwarts, you realize. Now that I’ve experienced this, there’s no way I’m passing my exams without it at least once a week.” 

“Mmm,” Harry absentmindedly ran his fingers up and down Draco’s spine. “I’ve a way in already. I’ll meet you in the first floor girls lavatory at ten pm next Friday – there’s a bedroom in the Chamber.” 

“The Chamber of Secrets?” Draco glanced up at Harry. “What does that have to do with a girls lavatory?” 

Harry smirked and closed his eyes. “You’ll see. Now get some sleep before we need to leave.” 

* * *

Draco stood before the Dark Lord, his sleeve rolled up and his eyes hard. His pale skin was bared to the Wizard standing above him. He could feel Harry’s eyes on him and remembered what Harry had told him: The Dark Lord put those who showed pain in the lowest ranks. 

He took a deep breath and locked his gaze with Harry’s as the Dark Lord pressed the tip of his wand to Draco’s forearm. It had been a little less than a year since he’d first seen Harry in this room and now that he was of age, he was joining the Dark Forces. Harry’s eyes maintained their fierce gaze, almost forcing Draco not to look away. 

Suddenly, a pain so intense Draco thought he’d scream erupted in his arm. His eyes widened imperceptibly, but Harry narrowed his and forced Draco to remain still, to remain silent. His vision seemed to focus so all he saw was the vibrant green of Harry’s eyes. It seemed like an eternity before the pain faded and he had to use all his willpower not to slump. Harry gave a slight nod of his head and his eyes softened. 

Draco glanced up at the Dark Lord, who nodded in approval. He then looked down at his marked forearm. The skin around the Mark was reddening and still extremely sensitive. 

“Join your brothers and sisters,” the Dark Lord ordered. 

Draco inclined his head in respect and stood to stand beside his mother. Her eyes were sad, so he looked away. His father had never looked more proud of him. 

That evening, when he and Harry were lounging beside one another in Harry’s chambers, he was quieter than usual. This didn’t go unnoticed by Harry, who eventually put his book down and sent it to his desk with a swish of his finger. Draco turned to look at him – despite the fact that he was only in a pair of boxers, he managed to look very intimidating. 

“It’s done, Draco. You wanted to join the ranks, yes?” 

“Yes, but my mother, Harry.” He scowled as Harry sent Draco’s book to the desk as well. “You didn’t see her face.” 

“She thinks you’ll be at the bottom, where your father started.” 

“Won’t I be?” Draco furrowed his brows. 

Harry wrapped his arms around Draco and pulled him against his chest, leaving Draco to straddle him and wrap his arms around his neck. Harry’s fingers traced the dimples on Draco’s lower back before speaking. 

“I talked to Tom and convinced him to let me make you my apprentice. You’ll answer to only Tom and I. Technically, you’ve a higher ranking than your father.” Draco’s jaw threatened to drop as he gaped at Harry. The other boy smirked and pressed a soft kiss to Draco’s lips. “I’m sure your mother will be fine with it.” 

* * *

Draco was in his Uncle Sev’s lab, brewing something for the Dark Lord. He’d been in an awful mood all day, as Harry had been disappearing for days at a time, blaming it on something he _needed to do_. Draco scowled at the bubbling cauldron and ran his fingers through his hair. 

“Where’s Harry?” Sev questioned. 

Draco glanced up, not realizing that his uncle had entered the room. “On some errand, I’d assume.” 

Sev seemed to consider his words carefully before speaking. “Harry isn’t like you, Draco. He doesn’t feel things like we do.” 

“What are you talking about?” Draco narrowed his eyes, immediately feeling defensive over the other boy. 

“He doesn’t _feel_ , Draco. Despite what you feel for him, I doubt he’d ever be able to feel a fraction of it for you. For _anyone_.” 

“You don’t know him,” Draco replied icily.

“I helped raise him,” Sev snapped. “I’m one of two people who have ever been inside his mind. I know him better than you do. He can’t love you as you love him.” 

“I don’t care,” Draco scowled, turning back to his cauldron. “He cares for me.” 

“You’ll get hurt,” Sev warned him. 

“I’d be more hurt if I left him without giving it a chance.” 

* * *

Draco woke in Harry’s bed alone. The sound of the running tap sounded from the bathroom and he sat up and rubbed his eyes, wondering what Harry was up to. He padded over to the bathroom and his eyes widened. The sink was filled with blood. Green eyes met his through the mirror and Harry looked surprised before indifference took over. 

“Harry, what the fuck,” Draco breathed. 

“It’s not mine,” Harry said quietly. “It’s Nagini’s. This is necessary. You’ll see why tomorrow. A new age is approaching, Draco.” Harry turned off the tap, then dried his hands. He turned and stood before Draco, brushing his thumb across Draco’s cheekbone. “This is for us.” 

* * *

Chaos reigned. The Dark Lord lay dead at the foot of his throne and Harry was standing above him, wand out, a fierce look in his eyes. He’d locked all the doors and windows. After a few minutes of listening to the screams and cries of the Death Eaters, he waved his wand. Everyone’s mouths suddenly were unable to open and they were all shoved into straight lines like soldiers by some invisible force. 

“There, that’s better,” Harry drawled. He sat in the Dark Lord’s throne and inspected his wand. “Seeing as how I was named Voldemort’s successor, I doubt any of you will have a problem taking orders from me. If you do, that can be dealt with.” His eyes scanned the room, then he nodded in approval. “Very good.” His eyes locked onto Draco, then that same force was pushing Draco forward, causing him to stand right where Harry usually stood beside the Dark Lord. 

“Now, straight to business.” Harry narrowed his eyes. “We’re going to do what my former master could not. We’re going to burn down the world.”


End file.
